


The Alola Anomaly

by unknowncapybara



Category: Pocket Monsters | Pokemon - All Media Types
Genre: Alcohol, Gambling, Gen, Smoking
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-01-20
Updated: 2018-01-19
Packaged: 2019-03-07 00:43:30
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,020
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13423095
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/unknowncapybara/pseuds/unknowncapybara
Summary: Something seems to have gone horribly wrong with the Pokemon in the Alola region





	The Alola Anomaly

Phillip Adler perched on the stool at the Goldenrod City Game Corner, one hand on the slot machine’s crank and the other hand protecting the coin case on his lap. Triple sevens, triple sevens, triple sevens, he chanted in his head as the little icons spun faster than he could see, in blurs of red, blue, and yellow. He’d played three coins for all three rows to count, and he hoped for the best. The foot that rested on the floor tapped anxiously to the same rhythm as the opposing knee, causing his coins to clank against the metal case. At the least the music blared loud enough to cover the sound. As each row slowed to a stop, he grimaced. Not a single match made. He stopped his fidgeting as someone lowered the music.

A cherry scented smoke ring lazily floated over to him as someone he didn’t recognize leaned back against the adjacent slot machine and said, “The games are rigged, man. No point in playing any of ‘em.”

“Yeah? Then why are you here?” Adler shot back, glaring at him.

“Some of my buddies felt like wastin’ their money,” he said. He drank out of the plastic red cup, what Adler surmised had to be some kind of rum. “Who wouldn’t, though? Everyone’s celebratin’.”

“Yeah, yeah, the damn war with Alola. You think Surge’s actions were really justified?”

“Does it matter? To the winners go the spoils,” he replied, taking a seat next to Adler.

“I’ll drink to that,” Adler agreed, liberally imbibing his own cup of rum.

Having enough of the pointless conversation, Adler fished some coins out of his case and slipped them one by one into the machine for his last round. He yanked on the crank a little harder than he meant to, feeling the man’s eyes on him as the characters spun around. Even triple cherries or a couple of Pikachus would be fine at this point; he didn’t _think_ the man would attempt to rob him if he got a decent pay out, but he couldn’t be arsed to find out. He suddenly realized the man still blathered on about how the machines had been rigged and bits and pieces about the war. Adler didn’t pay enough attention to make sense out of anything.

Triple pokeballs on the bottom row. Damn. Adler snatched the printed ticket from underneath the coin slots. Fifty coins. He caught a glimpse of the guy’s greedy eyes on his ticket and shoved it in his pocket. Before he could say anything, Adler hurried over to the prize counter to cash out for the night. Six tickets over thirteen rounds of slots didn’t feel like a lot until the woman handed him two hundred and fifty coins.

The man still lingered close enough to see him receive his earnings but far enough away to be out of earshot. The slightest inkling the man coveted the coins made Adler shift uncomfortably and made his skin crawl.

“Still trying to get TM 35?” She asked, her voice almost a little too sweet, breaking his focus away from him.

Adler gave a slight nod as he put his winnings into his case and the case into his bag. “Have a good night.”

As soon as he exited the casino, he pulled out a red and white ball, gently clicking the little button in the center. A bright pink light escaped as his beloved Houndoom materialized in front of him. He couldn’t be sure if the strange man would actually follow him back to his apartment. A little more inebriated than he thought, he could only ensure his safety with Scylla by his side.

His apartment complex happened to be comfortably situated fairly close to the Game Corner, but it only slightly reassured him. Normally he wouldn’t feel concerned, but the man could be part of Team Rocket for all he knew. And Team Rocket lately had become a force to be reckoned with, one even he couldn’t handle on his own because of the sheer number of them. It would exhaust Scylla to the point where even a quick trip to the Pokècenter wouldn’t give her enough energy to take them all down.

He’d have to report this to Fowler tomorrow morning. Despite the possibility it could have been a random thief, he couldn’t stand the idea of being overpowered. He dropped a hand in front of Syclla and gently rubbed her head absentmindedly. He pulled out the key to his apartment and unlocked the door, gently pushing his Houndoom inside and slipping inside after her. He ensured the door locked behind him, and he closed the curtains in the little living space.

Syclla jumped on the couch, circling around before she found a comfortable spot to lie down as Adler turned on a floor lamp. He picked his pajamas up off of his mattress and dropped his clothing, taking his time to redress. The ribbed, white tank top and the grey sweatpants welcomed him back to his own little slice of heaven. Flipping off the light, he laid down on the mattress, pulling the blankets over himself and closed his eyes.

He had to have been asleep for only a few moments, he figured as he awoke to Scylla’s growling as she pressed her snout against the door. Someone yelling and pounding on the door had to be a Team Rocket grunt or maybe the guy from earlier felt lucky. Or maybe both.

He scrambled to his feet as Scylla howled. The banging stopped and the voice silenced. She bristled, waiting for more, and he prepared himself to command her to attack. Nudging her out of the way, he peeked through the peephole.

Nothing. Not a damn thing. He smiled inwardly, happy that she had scared off a potential intruder. He double checked the lock on the door and for good measure, took a look at the lock on the window.

Satisfied, he found his way back into bed, yawning and wanting nothing more than to sleep off his alcohol. He would definitely be speaking to Fowler about this.


End file.
